


Learning to Give a Damn

by bluetoast



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Needs A Hug, Dean is a good bro, F/M, Heartbreak, Hurt Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, POV Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never showed up on Halloween 2005. Sam went on to become a sucessful lawyer and married Jessica. But he never forgot where he came from - every Christmas, he and Jess find a shelter to volunteer at. This year is their first in Atlanta - and a man in a wheelchair by the name of Kansas reminds Sam of his brother Dean - who he hasn't seen since he left for Stanford ten years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Give a Damn

Next year was going to be a great one, Sam knew it. The baby was due in April – Jess had already gotten him to paint the nursery pink, although he was willing to bet their little girl would want it painted another color by the time she was three. The move from California to Georgia back in August had been good too – much as they had hated leaving their friends there. Jess hadn't liked moving at first – until she found out about the baby and well, her mood was infectious. Sam tugged the new sweater he'd gotten from his wife for Christmas over his head. “Jess, you almost ready to go?”

“Yes.” She pulled her hair back into a bun. “Did you put the clothes in the trunk?”

“I'll take care of that – you finish getting ready.” Sam gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek and headed downstairs. This was the Winchester family tradition – he'd been doing it since he went to college and after he married Jess, she was more than happy to go along with it. Every Christmas he'd go to a local shelter and volunteer his time. He could remember the first time Dean had taken him to one of the shelters, he was all of six years old, and ten year old Dean, his pride hurt more than anything, had told him under no condition were they supposed to tell Dad where they'd gone. Sam could never figure out why until he was much older. When he'd seen his brother go without food so he could have a bigger share. Dad really hadn't paid much attention to what state he left his boys in, other than down behind salt lines with a weapon or two. 

Sam remembered what it was like to be hungry and cold. But never unloved. Dean always made him feel loved. Dean had been his mom, dad, best friend and brother all rolled into one – and he'd not spoken to his brother in thirteen years. Dean would turn thirty-three next January – knowing his brother, Dean would be spending it on a hunt. The last person he'd talked to from his old life had been Pastor Jim six years ago to tell him he was getting married. It was then that he learned that the demon dad had been hunting was dead – but nothing more. Sam really hadn't cared. The good pastor hadn't said a thing about Dean. Dean was probably out saving people tonight, or out with a pretty girl – something. 

Sam hefted the bag of his and Jess's clothes that either didn't fit or they didn't plan on wearing again into the trunk of his car, moving the two bags clothes he'd collected from coworkers and a sack of canned goods aside. Atlanta winters weren't as harsh as a lot of the ones Sam had been through, but it could still get cold. Although if it snowed even a fraction of a inch, they shut the city down. He went back inside as Jess came into the garage. “I don't think we've gone to a shelter with this many clothes before.”

“I think the coworkers you have here are a little more generous.” Jess hit the button to raise the door and came around to her side of the car. “I sometimes feel bad – coming back home to a warm house knowing that tomorrow, those people out there – they still don't have a place to live. Or if they do, it's barely a roof over their heads.”

“I know what you mean.” Sam shut the trunk and got into the car. “I think it's the kids that usually the hardest to take in.”

“That's true.” She set her hand on her stomach, smiling. “I just wish we could do _more_ sometimes.”

Sam started up the car and backed out of the garage. “We could volunteer more often, if that's what you mean. I wouldn't object – but work schedules are crazy.”

“I know – and with the baby on the way...” She leaned back in her seat and sighed. “I just feel – guilty sometimes.”

“Guilty?” Sam frowned. “Why would you feel that way?”

“Sometimes it just seems unfair that we have so much when others have so little – you know?” She rubbed her eyes. 

“I know Jess. I know exactly what you mean.” Sam swallowed hard, remembering the Christmas when he was ten and he and Dean had walked back to the motel from the shelter with newish coats (Dean had told him to tell Dad they found them at the Goodwill for a bargain) and his brother, after cleaning out the pockets of his old coat, had, in turn, given it to a woman who was living in a box in an alley to use for bedding. Dad never found out and Sam still had never told anyone about it. “You know what you want to do for dinner?”

“Well, pancakes are always a good meal.” She smiled. “It's a good tradition too.”

“That it is, Jess.” Sam grinned and drove towards the Interstate.

*  
Sam got the task of helping sort clothes while Jess got to work the serving line. He wasn't too surprised – Jess had a smile that just seemed contagious. The shelter had been decorated in a riot of color and second hand trees – and the food, clothes and wrapped toys for kids, courtesy of Toys for Tots? If he didn't know better, Sam would think the Grinch had stopped by with all of the Whos Christmas loot. The air was heavy with the scent of fried chicken, gravy, pies and full of music and laughter. This was somehow – merrier than the shelters he and Jess had worked at in California. Or maybe he was just more into the Christmas Spirit this year.

“Kansas!” The head of volunteers, a woman named Polly, suddenly called out. “I was wondering if you'd show up!”

“Wouldn't miss it.” A man replied and Sam frowned. The voice sounded vaguely familiar and he looked up to see Polly giving a man in a wheelchair a hug. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Kansas.” She laughed. “We were worried you were going to miss dinner.”

“Ah, had a bit of a trouble with some ice.” Sam watched the man wheel himself across the room with ease. If was going to guess the man's age by appearance alone, he'd say he was fifty. He watched from the pile of jeans he was sorting as several volunteers greeted him – all calling him Kansas. Polly came back over to him and he turned his attention back to his work, reminding himself that it was rude to stare. “Who's that?”

“That's Kansas. He comes by about once a week – whatever you do, don't ask him what happened to his leg.” She shivered. “He told me when I met him that he didn't want to talk about it – and given the tone in his voice, it's not something he wants to share.”

“Guess that makes sense.” Sam glanced up again, frowning. There was something rather familiar about Kansas. “Kansas his real name?”

“No, that's just what we all call him. That's where he's from.” She flipped through a pile of flannel shirts and then pulled one out. “Oh, and another thing – whatever you do, don't play him in cards unless you want to see the definition of poker face and have your ass kicked. He pulled the face out with me playing Go Fish, of all things.”

“I lived in Kansas for about six months as a baby.” Sam managed a small grin. “Uh, how exactly do these get distributed?”

“Anna will be over to man the table in a little bit – most of our guests don't really want to take more than they need – but everyone gets two pairs of socks.” She folded the shirt and then went to the jeans and stopped after checking the size on a pair and added it to the shirt. “Put this back there for Kansas, would you? He always insists on going last – and when his turn came last year, everything that was left was either too small or too big.” 

“Sure.” Sam took the clothes and set them on a separate table behind him. “Toothbrushes and soap for everyone too, right?”

“Right.” She grinned at him and went off to another part of the shelter, leaving Sam to sort more clothes.

On the other side of the room, Kansas pulled his wheelchair up to a spot at one of the tables, adjusting himself as he looked over his tray of food. Soup, potatoes, fried chicken, green beans – and best of all, pie. He had started unwrapping his silverware – why did they wrap the stuff up anyway? - when he looked across the room and nearly dropped his cutlery. He could not believe what he was seeing. On the other side of the room, helping Anna sort through clothes and other items was his brother. His shock suddenly gave way to deep shame and sorrow. Dean looked back down at his food, his appetite completely gone. Sam looked warm, well dressed and well fed – perfectly normal, content and happy. Sorrow was becoming tinged with anger. Sam had run off and look at him now – Dean had stayed and look at him. It was so stupid, so childish of him to be so angry – he should be _happy_ for his brother, but what was he going to do? 

It was like the day after the demon was killed – he and dad should have been celebrating – they should have at least gone and seen Sam, had dinner and somehow put things back together. Instead, Dad took off in the Impala – the car that was supposed to be Dean's – and just didn't come back. His cell phone was disconnected a few weeks later. You would think, that after staying with his father and never leaving would have earned him some kind of consideration. Instead, Dean had been left with dad's truck – or rather, he used to have truck, before that car wreck that nearly killed him had destroyed it. He'd hoped Dad would come then – but it was like his father just dropped off the face of the Earth. 

The wreck was five years ago – and all that time, Dean had never left Atlanta. He picked up his spoon and started to eat his soup. Sam wouldn't recognize him – any more than dad would if he were to show up. He was thirty-two years old – almost thirty three – and he felt twice that. He'd resisted it for so long – but come the day after tomorrow, he was getting on a bus and going to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Bobby was the only one he still talked to – and the hunter was in need of someone to help him out in the salvage yard. He'd been after Dean to come up for years, but Dean, being Dean, had resisted – but he had to go – the building he lived in was being torn down next month to build some new luxury apartments as part of some stupid urban renewal project. He glanced across the table from him at the little girl, who was no more than eight, who was staring hard at his tray – mainly at his piece of apple pie. He sighed and picked it up off of the tray and scooted the plate over to her. 

“Thank you.” She whispered and pulled the plate to her and tore into the pie like it was her last meal. 

“You're welcome, kiddo.” He smiled and went back to his food. He doesn't know if he should say hello to his brother – or if he should just let it slide and go on like nothing happened. Maybe that's where the real pain was – the fact that Sam and Dad both just vanished from his life, leaving him alone. No family and no place to go. He was scraping his plate clean when he heard someone new sit down across from him.

“I hear you're leaving us, Kansas.” 

“'Fraid so Polly.” He raised his head and saw that Sam was now sitting down as well. “At least the good people at Brewer Construction were nice enough to give me bus fare.” 

“We're going to miss you around here.” She sighed. “I think it's terrible that they're tearing that building down. It was built for the Olympics back in '96.”

“That was nearly twenty years ago.” Dean leaned back in his wheelchair and eyed his brother wearily. “Looks like you've got someone new helping you out this year.”

“Uh, hi.” Sam smiled awkwardly. Now that he got a good look at Kansas – he could swear he looked familiar – not the way that people in the shelters in California looked familiar, but really familiar. “You're leaving?”

“The city's taken my home and I've only got one place to go.” Dean sighed. “It's not so bad – not much keeping me here anyway.”

“I saw you gave your pie to one of the kids again, Kansas.” Polly shook her head. “I've told you that you don't have to do that.”

“She wanted it more.” Dean swallowed. “'Sides, my uncle will probably have pie waiting for me when I get to Sioux Falls in a few days.” He sighed. “Provided the weather cooperates.”

“Kansas, you know what your problem is?”

“You mean aside from the fact I've only got one leg?”

“You're too damn nice.” Polly shook her head and turned to Sam. “Pisses me off how someone this nice can't have anyone who gives a damn about him. I could just punch someone sometime.” She stood up to leave. 

Dean bit off the comment she could deck the guy sitting next to her. “Aw, Pols – karma will take care of that for you.” He rested his arms against the table as the woman walked away. “So what do you do for a living?” He directed at Sam.

“I'm an attorney.” Sam swallowed hard – those green eyes were starting to get to him. They were _exactly_ like his brother's. 

“Something on your mind?” Dean shifted, rather glad he was unnerving his brother. 

“Sorry, it's just that you look – really familiar.” Sam's eyes flicked down a moment and then caught sight of the gold charm hanging from the man's neck. No way could there be two of those in the world – Bobby had told him it was special. “Uh – where'd you get that?” He indicated the charm.

“My brother gave it to me when I was eleven.” Dean kept his face even. “You sure cleaned up good, Sammy.”

Sam stared at Kansas in shock. The eyes, the charm and that _look._ “Dean?” His voice cracked. 

“Yeah.” Dean wished he could stand and walk away. “Been a long time, hasn't it?”

This was like something out a nightmare. Sam wanted to shake his head in denial at what he was seeing. His brother, his indestructible brother was sitting across from him, aged to look older than he could remember Pastor Jim ever looking, small and somehow, defeated. What had happened in all those years since he last saw Dean? Where had Dad gone? He knew Dad wasn't dead, because he'd asked Pastor Jim to call him if something bad happened. But Jim didn't know where John Winchester had gone – and Dean, here was Dean – and soon, soon his brother was going away. To Sioux Falls, to Bobby's house. “I...” Sam couldn't think of a single thing to say to his brother.

“I've looked worse.” Dean backed away from the table, wheeling himself away. He didn't want to hear anything from Sam. Not now. That part of his life was over and done with. 

*

Sam told Jessica everything when they got home. About how his mom really died, about how he grew up – answered questions, opened up wounds he thought were healed – and it ended with seeing Dean in the shelter tonight. Once he got it off of his chest, his pain started to turn to rage. He may have run off from his family, but then Dad had turned around and done the exact same thing. Sam could stand being abandoned – but to abandon Dean? He couldn't think of a single thing Dean could have done that would cause Dad to abandon him. Unless it'd been Dean who'd killed the demon and Dad had run off in a huff at losing _his_ vengeance. That would actually make sense to him.

He just knew he couldn't let Dean leave Atlanta without talking to him.

*  
Dean finished the last of his packing, what little furniture he had was going with a neighbor and most of his possessions had already been mailed to Bobby's house. He was doing his best to forget about seeing Sam yesterday. He was glad his brother was okay, that he was well – and married. Yeah. Bit of a big event there he'd been left out of. He just wanted to be out of this city and on his way. The waiting around to leave had always gotten to him. The sound of the elevator stopping on his floor echoed down the corridor – he and the rest of the residents referred to it as the 'vertical earthquake' and he shook his head. The movers for Shelby down the hall, no doubt. She was the only other person left on this floor. When there was a sharp knock on his door, however, he was surprised.

“Don't tell me Bobby came down here to get me.” He picked up his crutch from where it was leaning against the table and headed for the door. “I'm coming.” He heard the knock again. “Sheesh, it's not the end of the world here.” He looked out the peephole and he could have sworn. It was Sam. He threw back the seven locks on his door and cracked it open. “What are you doing here?”

“Dean, I just – I just want to talk, that's all.” Sam looked completely out of place in the shabby hallway – his coat was clean and his shoes were polished. 

Dean sighed and hobbled back. “Get in here before someone mugs you.” 

Sam stepped inside and watched him shut the door. “Uh – the corridor was empty.”

“No guarantee it'd stay that way.” He snorted and went over to the table. “Not exactly the nicest neighborhood around here.”

“I – guess.” Sam was looking around the apartment, pulling the collar of his coat tighter around him. The place was cold. “Uh, something wrong with the heater?”

“No, the landlord just shut it off to save himself a few grand.” Dean said, sitting down in an overstuffed chair that had probably been new in nineteen seventy. “I only have to stay warm one more night anyway.”

“Yeah.” Sam sat down in the only other chair in the apartment – which was about the size of his and Jess's bathroom. “Uh – shit – Dean, I know that there's not much I can say and it won't matter and...”

“Still babbling, I see.” Dean grunted, but managed a weak smile with it. “Thought you were going to grow out of that phase.”

“Shit, Dean – it's been over a decade, what do you want me to say?”

“Hello and I missed you works wonders, Sammy.” Dean leaned back in his chair. “If nothing else, it's a good start.”

Sam stood, walked over to Dean's chair and after a moment, leaned down, hauled his brother to his one foot – wrapped his arms around him and hugged him for all he was worth – like he could remember Dean hugging him after bad dreams, having to move – after all the pain, Dean had always been there for him with a hug. For a long time, he'd always dismissed his older brother as being a poor student, a show off, a heedless heartbreaker and nothing more than their father's little warrior. He'd been wrong – he'd been so very, very wrong. “Thank you.” He hugged Dean tighter, supporting the man's full weight with his own.

“For what, Sammy?” Dean sounded to be on the verge of tears. 

“For teaching me the most important lesson – one I didn't fully get until just yesterday.” He felt tears start to slide down his cheeks. “Teaching me how to give a damn.”

“Told you those books you were so damn fond of were full of bullshit.” Dean squeezed his brother. “And you're welcome.”


End file.
